‘The glass came from Venice,’ he told her, a chill edge to his tone.
‘It was here when you bought the hotel?’
Luke nodded and strode towards the lift, Christine following with the heaviness descending on her heart again. However, once in his private suite Luke soon became his own amicable self.
‘I’m sorry, Luke.’ Christine’s manner was contrite. ‘I won’t be stupid and childish again. It—hurts when you’re angry with me.’
He shook his head and gave a small sigh. ‘Sometimes, Chris, I just don’t know what to do with you.’
‘We’re both getting older, and changes are coming. I don’t like them but realise they’re inevitable.’
He was by the window, looking down at the pool around which a number of guests were sunbathing, attired only in the briefest covering. Brown bodies lazily taking on more and more sun. In the pool itself the swimmers enjoyed the warmth and the pleasure of the bar which Luke had recently had put into the centre of the swimming pool. It was something different which the hotel guests seemed to find intriguing.
Luke turned on Christine’s words and a wry smile touched the fine outline of his mouth. ‘Yes, we’re getting older,’ he agreed, ‘and the changes come.’
‘What shall I ever do without you when eventually you cast me off?’ Not words she had really meant to utter but she was keenly interested in his response. Her lovely eyes were wide and appealing, her fingers nervously plucking at one another.
‘What makes you suppose I shall ever cast you off?’
‘I’m beginning to bore you,’ she asserted, trying to read his expression, but his face had taken on a masklike quality—a calculated act, she felt sure, in order to keep her in ignorance of his feelings, and her heart sank a little as she was sure he was mentally agreeing with what she had said.
‘I shan’t cast you off,’ was all he said, glancing to the door as a porter brought in their luggage.
‘Is that meant to be reassuring?’ she wanted to know after the man had left again.
‘I hope it is reassuring, Chris.’ Serious the tone and the honest look as his eyes met hers.
Nevertheless, she was impelled to say, her mind having winged to what Greta had told her about Luke having a glamourous girlfriend, ‘You’ll marry, Luke, and then I shall be without you, for I’m sure your wife won’t want you to be bothering about me and my troubles.’
‘Troubles,’ he repeated and was suddenly amused. ‘At your age, child, the only troubles are those of the tender years, but, sadly, you don’t realise that, and if you did you wouldn’t accept it.’
‘The tender years . . .’ She looked questioningly at him. ‘You mean the teens?’
‘Yes, I expect the teens is what I mean.’
‘They should be the best years of a girl’s life.’
‘Usually they are—’
‘For most girls, yes, but for me—’ She stopped as a sense of ingratitude assailed her.
‘But you feel you’ve missed a good deal? I suppose you have,’ he added after a small pause, ‘and yet there are a great number of girls who would envy you the life you live.’
The hint of censure did not escape her and she was swift to respond, ‘I know that you are right, Luke. I’m ungrateful and selfish because I sometimes dwell on what might have been had my parents lived. We were so happy and there was love in our home.’
Luke came towards her, and as had happened so often in the past she was finding a resting place for her head against his breast.
‘I don’t deserve you,’ she admitted. ‘It will be my own fault if you tire of all this.’ He made no answer, but just continued to stroke her soft, shining hair. ‘You will marry,’ she insisted. ‘And this will become a memory.’
‘I’m not thinking of marrying yet awhile, so we can let that problem slide.’
‘But one day you
must
marry.’
‘Perhaps.’ He drew her away and looked into her eyes. ‘Who knows?’
Christine lowered her head, profoundly aware of those inexplicable vibrations again, and a hollowness within her this time, too. Luke married . . . Until now she had treated the possibility lightly, without troubling to form pictures or think deeply about it. But now the picture had assumed a clarity which brought it right home to her. All his love and affection would be lavished on his wife, while she, Christine, would become so unimportant that she would be forgotten altogether—well, perhaps not altogether because they would see each other, both living on Pirates’ Cay. Or would Luke decide to live here, on Grand Bahama, or perhaps in Nassau? Christine’s eyes were bleak as she looked up, forced to do so by a lean brown hand beneath her chin.
‘Lord, Chris, what’s wrong?’ he demanded with a frown of concern.
‘I was imagining you married—Oh, Luke, whatever shall I do without you?’ The words came out on a strangled cry, but instead of sympathy Christine received a thorough shaking.
‘Stop it!’ thundered Luke, ready to shake her again. ‘It was childishness before and now it’s self-pity. If I marry,
then
is the time for you to wonder! And now—go and unpack! Your room’s over there, the door on the left!’
‘Wonder?’ she was saying to herself as she turned to obey him. ‘What an odd word to use. Wonder . . .’
Why, thought Christine, hadn’t she expected something like this? After all, Miami was little more than a stone’s throw across the Atlantic Ocean and so it was easy for Luke’s girl friend to come over. Probably she had been in the habit of doing so each time Luke was on the island of Grand Bahama. Greta had said that Clarice was glamourous; she had beauty as well, and poise and a certain amount of grace. She had arrived within twenty-four hours of their own arrival and now, as she stood on the balcony of her bedroom, Christine could see them in the pool, swimming close, laughing comrades who obviously found pleasure in each other’s company.
She turned, having come up to change because Luke had insisted she go into the pool, but she felt the invitation to be nothing more than courtesy ... or he might be feeling sorry for her— No, not that any more, she decided. Luke was still impatient if she only mentioned Steve’s name.
She didn’t change, but she went down to the pool patio and took possession of a lounger. She was in bright green shorts and a white cotton sun top which was tight and scanty so that it revealed her tanned arms and throat and most of her back. She noticed the attention of a young man she had seen watching her before. He smiled as their eyes met and she smiled back. A moment later his chair was alongside her lounger and he was introducing himself.
‘Kevin Peyton,’ she repeated. ‘I’m Christine Mead.’
‘Happy to make your acquaintance. I’ve been noticing you for the past two days. You’re with the couple in there, aren’t you?’
She nodded, her eyes going to Luke’s bronzed body as he swam away to the other side of the pool.
With that couple
. . . The odd one out, gooseberry. She bit her lip, conscious of a new and disturbing emotion she could not have described had her life depended on it.
‘Are you on holiday?’ she asked presently.
‘In a way. But I really came for an interview for a job as assistant manager at the Pioneer Hotel. I thought I’d come a few days beforehand and enjoy a bit of sun.’
‘You’re American. They don’t usually have foreigners in a job a Bahamian can do—at least, that’s the rule applying on Pirates’ Cay, where I come from.’
‘You live in the Bahamas, then?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘Lucky! So you don’t hold out much hope of my getting the job?’
‘Hope?’ She shrugged her shoulders, thinking it rather strange that he should bring her opinion into it. She didn’t care one way or the other, but of course she was too polite to say so. ‘I might be wrong,’ she eventually said, ‘but they usually think of their own people first.’
‘I want to be optimistic, though. I feel the hotel owner wouldn’t have asked me to come if there’s no chance.’
‘I agree, so it might be that the owner can pull some strings.’ Her eyes strayed to the pool again; Luke and Clarice were sitting on the side, very close together.
‘It’s not much fun being on my own here.’ He turned towards her, an expectant look in his deep-set grey eyes. ‘I know you’re with that couple, but would you break away this evening and dine with me?’
‘No, I couldn’t do that.’
‘Why? I daresay they’d welcome a chance to be alone—’ He stopped, appearing almost comical in his dismay. ‘I must be a fool to have said a thing like that. I’m so sorry—I mean, if they—’
‘It’s all right,’ she broke in coldly. ‘There’s no need to apologise.’ She reached for the book she had brought down with her and dropped on the ground. ‘If you’ll excuse me?’ She rose and walked away but he followed, much to her annoyance.
‘I really am sorry, Christine—’
‘Don’t call me Christine,’ she snapped. ‘And kindly leave me alone.’
But he still followed on her brisk pace and in the lobby she turned. He was looking extremely crestfallen and contrite. Christine felt sorry for him even though she was still angry. She supposed it was humiliation which was really affecting her, making her feel so uncomfortable. Did Luke want to be alone with Clarice? No need to ask if the girl wanted him all to herself, for although she had been friendly towards Christine, there was an underlying resentment of her presence which Christine was quick to sense. She wondered what explanation Luke had given to the girl. Christine hadn’t asked him but she would, at the first opportunity.
‘Say you forgive me,’ Kevin was saying in a humble tone.
‘Forget it,’ she said and managed a smile. ‘We can all be guilty of a slip of the tongue.’
Half an hour later Luke was asking why she hadn’t come into the pool. He and Christine were in the luxurious sitting room of the suite; the window was wide open with only the insect netting between them and the flower-draped balcony which looked out over the marina.
‘I didn’t want to—to intrude.’
Luke, who was now in buff-coloured slacks and a casual overshirt, opened his eyes wide at her sullen tone. ‘That’s an odd word to use, isn’t it?’
‘Clarice and you—’ She broke off and began again. ‘I’m not happy at playing gooseberry.’
An exasperated sigh issued from his lips. ‘What the devil’s got into you now?’ he demanded, coming close to tower above her. ‘You came here with me and it’s my duty to see you enjoy yourself!’
‘Duty?’ She lifted her eyes, saw him frown as he guessed she was close to tears. ‘Why should you feel you have a duty towards me? It’s natural that you want to be with Clarice, and if I’d known she was coming here, then I’d have stayed at home. You should have told me she was going to be with us.’
‘I didn’t know she was coming here,’ he snapped. ‘I phoned her when we arrived and it was a mistake—’ Glowering at Christine as if it were her fault he had made the slip, he swung away abruptly to the other side of the room but turned to face her. ‘She decided to come over—’
‘Without asking you?’ interrupted Christine.
‘Yes—she didn’t know I had anyone with me.’
‘I see.’
‘You don’t see at all! However, it doesn’t matter. That you resent her is plain but there’s nothing I can do about it. She’s here and you can get used to the idea. She’s been friendly towards you and she’s mentioned what a charming child you are, so why this antagonism?’
‘She called me a child?’ No answer from Luke, who merely threw her an impatient glance. ‘I’m not antagonistic,’ she went on to deny. ‘Nor do I resent her being here. What troubles me is the knowledge that you and she would prefer to be alone. It’s a pity I came with you,’ she added. Then, stung to a retort by his sudden gleam of contempt, she threw in for good measure, ‘I’m sorry I’ve cramped your style!’
Luke gritted his teeth. ‘You have
not
cramped my style! If I want to be alone with Clarice all I’ve to do is pack you off back to Pirates’ Cay on the next flight out!’
Christine’s lips quivered. ‘Luke . . . this is the first time you and I have quarrelled.’
His eyes were almost hostile. ‘It’ll not be the last if you go on like this. It’s the crush you have on Steve, and the sooner you make up your mind to forget him the sooner you’ll be a nice person again. As it is—you’re peevish and truculent and bad-tempered—’ He wagged a finger at her threateningly. ‘You’ve said you wished I were your guardian, your adoptive father. Well, you can thank your lucky stars that I’m not, because if I were I’d throw you over my knee and give you the spanking you deserve.’
She stared, the hot blood surging into her cheeks. ‘Why, you—!’ she began, then broke off as the door opened.
‘I hope I’m not interrupting anything,’ came the voice of Clarice at its sweetest as she sailed into the room. ‘But I forgot to tell you, Luke, darling, that I’ve a hair appointment in ten minutes and so I could be a little late for lunch. Shall we make it for a quarter past one instead of one o’clock?’ While speaking to Luke her eyes were nevertheless flickering to the angry, flushed face of the girl who was standing in the middle of the room, her fists tightly clenched at her sides.
‘That’ll be all right, Clarice; we’ll be in the lounge having an aperitif.’
‘I shan’t be having lunch,’ from Christine tautly. ‘I’m not hungry,’ and with that she turned away, swiftly, because her eyes were brimming with tears of self-pity and anger.
She bumped into Kevin as she came out of the lift. ‘Oh—hello,’ she greeted him. ‘Er—about this evening. Is the invitation still on?’
‘Of course,’ he replied eagerly. ‘You’ll have dinner with me?’
‘I’d love to.’ She paused fractionally. ‘Lunch—I’m on my own for the rest of the day.’
She was being horrid and she knew it. For it was not Luke’s fault that Clarice was here, but as long as she was he had to be gracious to her. What did she, Christine, expect him to do—tell the girl to go off and entertain herself, because he had a young friend with him? I’m rotten, decided Christine and tears rolled unchecked down her cheeks, tears of regret that she could even think of being so hateful with her dearest Luke.